Part 10 (1/2)
”My cat,” I said, drifting.
I closed my eyes tight against a new flash of light.
”Chakra? Hey, what have you got, there? Madeira? We have to talk.”
”Not tonight, 'kay?”
Werner lowered me, so I had to hold on tight to his neck or fall, then I felt Chakra's fur beneath my chin.
”Tomorrow then,” he said.
”Whatever,” I whispered, riding a cloud.
More lifting, up and down, drifting. Someone mumbling about keys, me holding tight again.
”Which room's yours?”
”Hmm?”
Light p.r.i.c.ked at my eyelids, so I closed them tighter.
”What is the meaning of this, Detective?”
”Detective who?” I asked, my eyes still closed. ”Dad?”
”Madeira, are you drunk?”
I saw my father in his pajamas, shocked out of his socks. Shock didn't come easy to Harry Cutler, a college professor who'd raised four kids alone.
I blinked against the light. Details came to me in pieces.
Why wasn't I standing? I looked at my ride. Werner? ”Daddy, he arrested me.”
My father crossed his arms. ”Why? What did you do, this time?”
I'd never heard Werner's full-bodied laugh before. A real wake-up call. ”Sir,” he said on a last chuckle, ”could you just show me where her bed is?”
”I don't b.l.o.o.d.y well think so.”
”She's getting heavy and I'm afraid-”
”I am not heavy.”
Werner fumbled me and I slid down his body and landed on my ascot in the hall. ”Ouch! That was rude!”
Werner, my father, and Aunt Fiona looked down at me.
”Aunt Fiona, what are you doing in my dream wearing Sherry's old bathrobe?”
My father ran a hand through his hair. ”Fee was distraught after being shut in that casket. She couldn't stay alone. She's been having nightmares all night.”
I'd never seen my father so discomfited. ”How would you know?”
His ears turned red. I'd never seen that happen before, either. ”It's not what you think,” he said.
”How many times did you believe me when I used those words?”
Was I having a middle-of-the-night conversation with my father in the Wiener's presence? ”I'm hallucinating, aren't I?”
”Madeira, do you two know what time it is?” my father asked.
”Dawn,” I said. ”The playhouse burned to the ground. And I thought my building would, too.” Tears slid down my cheeks, but I didn't know how they got there.
”She's sleep deprived,” Lytton said, as he and my father each took one of my arms and between them, got me standing.
”I feel like a jellyfish. No legs.” I leaned into Werner, who was forced to slip an arm around me.
”Harry,” Aunt Fiona said. ”She worked a full day in New York, drove home, and hasn't stopped since.”
”That's right; I hasn't.”
Lytton chuckled. ”She's had a hard forty-eight hours, sir.”
My father sighed. ”This way to her bedroom.”
I rode up in Werner's arms, mine around his neck, my head resting there.
He placed me on my bed and I missed his heartbeat. ”Who moved my cloud?” The drifty, out-of-body sensation I remembered with fondness had pa.s.sed. So I was forced to curl into myself.
”Fee will take care of her.” My father's voice drifted away.
Aunt Fiona's perfume, like a blanket of warmth, covered me. For the first time in days, I drifted in dreamless and endless peace.
”d.a.m.ned light, again,” I snapped, opening my eyes, against my better judgment.
”Chill, Mad. It's about time.” Eve handed me a latte. ”Your dad said you've been asleep for hours. You don't look like you spent the night with the Wiener. Are the gossips wrong about that, too?”
Sixteen.
Elegance is fluid. It consists of desire and knowledge, grace, refinement, perfection, and distinction.
-RENE GRUAU ”Me? Spend the night with the Wiener!” I sat up fast. ”Are you out of your mind?”
”Shush,” Eve said. ”They're saying that Fiona and your dad spent the night together, too.”
Memory alert. I looked up, saw my dad coming toward the foot of my bed, and wondered how much he'd heard.